


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by MysticAlien



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock, F/M, Humor, Hurt John, M/M, Poor John, Protective Sherlock, Sexual Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-27 14:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15026792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticAlien/pseuds/MysticAlien
Summary: John's got a problem he can't seem to shake off, or jerk off. Turns out only Sherlock can help him.





	Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt from interscholasticfangirl. She said: "I keep seeing stories where Sherlock suffers some type of priapism or is overly horny or needs John to masturbate him. I want to to turn that trope on its head, John has a particular nasty erection, or an abundance of them. Maybe he just can't climax for whatever reason. Ten points for John's cock taking center-state, overt Johnlock, and Sherlock helping him through it."

John doesn't muse on his current dilemma, not consciously, but in the back of his mind, behind his lizard brain focuses solely on roughly jacking off his steel hard dick, he can't help but think that this is becoming a painfully regular occurrence.

His grunts fill the room. He's being loud he knows, but right now he doesn't care; and Sherlock can go fuck himself if he's annoyed.

The sweat is dripping down his face, neck and chest pooling into the wiry thicket of pubic hair and further down to help sodden the blankets of his bed that were already damp from the dampness of his hair and skin when he sat down soon after his recent shower. This is wank he had technically started over an hour ago in the shower. He'd made the water as frigid as possible to cool down whatever invisible lust had heated his blood, but it didn't help. He finally managed to come but remained rock hard. Growling with frustration he walked back to his room only to sit down on his bed to get rid of it one way or another.

John Watson is no stranger to extended hard-ons, not with his libido he isn't, but even the erections that take a frustrating long wank or fuck to make come down, they don't usually last as long as the ones he's been enduring lately. And when they finally do come down they stay down. He's had recurring insane erections for the past two weeks.

He starts using both hands, stroking the base in one and the top half in the other, fucking his hips upwards, pushing his cock into his hands as he tightens himself around his hardness, feeling his own callouses scrape across the heated length.

He's been wanking for what feels like eternity but he still can't come.

Busty woman, girls he saw on the bus, the hot nurse he had a crush on when she first started, all of them fade away in his fantasies.

Suddenly, an unbidden thought sears through his mind. Memories: Sherlock in various states of undress, his silky dressing gown fitting around the supple curves of his ass as he bends over the kitchen table, or how, when Sherlock would stretch upwards to reach for a cup, his globes would flex and clap around the thin fabric.

"Fuck!" John snarls, pistoning his hips upward, faster, faster, faster, hunching over-himself as he nears.

FLASH.

A memory from two weeks ago. Sherlock bounces out of bathroom in what looks like a hand towel in John's estimation, incredibly short and revealing an incredibly plump cheek that jiggles oh so enticingly as the younger moves. 

With a bone-deep groan John comes spilling all over his hands and thighs.

 

 

****

 

An hour later and another shower taken, John emerges from room and stomps downstairs, his stomach growling with its deep hunger. 

 

His trek to the fridge comes to an abrupt halt the second he sees his flatmate dressed only in a sheet. He's fussing with the coffeepot, not caring that his thin sheet is slipping down, his bare shoulder exposed, the knobs of his upper spine protruding through his white-pale skin. 

A searing wave of molten lust slams into John's lower gut. He wants to place his mouth over each little vertebra, as he trails down lower and lower down that delectably flexible spine until...

Stop it! He growls at himself. 

Christ! He needs a drink. Sherlock intercepts his thoughts but placing a mug in front of him.  

"I made you tea." Sherlock offers with a soft smile. John merely grunts and moves past him to the fridge. He needs something harder. Rummaging around some dissected body parts and what John can only assume are eyeballs he finds and pulls out his bottle of scotch. It's only got a third left but that will have to do. Anything to push down his burgeoning erection.  

Meanwhile, Sherlock's little uptilted nose rises only higher in his affronted pose, seemingly upset that John turned down his tea. 

John does not turn down the warm breakfast Sherlock made, or well heated up. It's mostly nibbles and goodies Mrs. Hudson prepared and brought over earlier in the week. 

 

John does his best to wolf his food down while looking only at his plate. Unfortunately Sherlock is in a bubbly mood, giddier than a schoolgirl on the morning of prom. He's explaining to John about the latest death which he's attributing to a serial killer with a most unique MO. John misses much more after than because he unfortunately made the disastrous mistake of looking over at Sherlock.

Sherlock, with his pretty tousled curls, wrapped haphazardly in that white bed sheet slipping down over his narrow frame. Sherlock who is undoubtedly naked underneath. John swallows audibly. He adjusts himself in his seat and hopes his placing of his napkin over the massive bulge isn't too noticeable. 

Sherlock cranes his neck forward as he reaches for the jelly. John keeps staring at the pink-over-pale flush on the skin of Sherlock's neck and smooth chest. The deliciously delicate collarbones being framed enticingly by the surrounding sheet. 

John has no idea if this is being done on purpose to torture his cock or if Sherlock really is this innocently oblivious. 

 


End file.
